


Rules to be Broken

by torncorpse



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-22
Updated: 2011-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torncorpse/pseuds/torncorpse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny hunts monsters and demons. Steve is startlingly accommodating about it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules to be Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'Fantasy AU' as part of the h50_50 prompt challenge.

_Rule ≠1; Never tell anyone the truth_

Danny’s been living by the rules for almost all of his adult life. Sure, there was that one time back in New Jersey when he was eighteen and just needed to get the explanation out, a way to explain away the blood stains that didn’t make him sound like a homicidal maniac. It almost worked; they didn’t think he was homicidal, just a maniac. He learned not to care about what people thought. Learned to let it go and just deal with life rather than peoples opinions. Getting out of his teenage years helped that. By the time he was twenty-three, he didn’t care what other people thought, he wasn’t coloured by anyone’s opinion. It was easier to keep with rule number one from there out.

He’d been convinced that a job in law enforcement would keep any other questions at bay, so he did what he did, enrolled, completed the course, found himself enamoured with the job rather than just using it for cover. He was good at puzzles, he was good with people, he had amazing night vision and reflexes, not to mention his instincts. He was an asset to the department, he was a great cop. He was pushed towards taking the Detective exam early, but held off for longer than he should’ve. After all, he still had another job to do.

Explaining that when he wasn’t on shift he was fighting demons and monsters and supernatural tales wasn’t something he thought he could do nevermind should do. His father was fairly adamant that he remember, if people knew, they were in danger. Danny was more worried about getting himself locked up in the loony bin.

Being a cop, being a ‘hunter’ as his father liked to call it, they slotted in well. He was protecting people, but being a cop wasn’t just about protecting people from the things they never knew about, being a cop was protecting people from other people. New Jersey wasn’t exactly a hot spot of paranormal activity and supernatural entities. But New York had its fair share, Philadelphia did too. If Danny could get there and back without too many questions, he’d do what he did and just deal with it.

Hawaii, however, is a completely different kettle of fish. Following Rachel out to Hawaii just to keep his time with his daughter might not have been the best idea in the world, but Rachel had found out about that ‘other’ stuff that Danny dealt with, and pointing out that Grace would be so much safer if Danny was actually around to deal with it, well it kept Rachel from arguing too much. Most of the time. His father had been less than happy, but Danny knew of five other ‘hunters’ that would easily be able to handle his absence in New Jersey, and as far as he knew no one on the islands was doing jack-shit about the less than normal activity in Hawaii.

His first week there, he’s almost drowned by a Khala that was residing in a cove just past the beach. He’d managed to explain it all away to Meka –his new partner in the HPD, although the good natured Hawaiian decided that it meant Danny didn’t know how to swim, which led to a few excursions to a local indoor pool, where Meka discovered that Danny did swim, he just didn’t like to. It had something to do with three headed water dragons trying to drown him, of course, but he didn’t bring that up.

Keeping secrets from Steve though, that’s so much harder. Not because Danny feels compelled to inform his new boss and partner just what he’s gotten himself in for, not because he feels that he should point out that he might, at some point, not actually be able to jump with Steve calls. It’s more that Danny finds himself being dragged into Steve’s life, or Steve pushing into his own, which ever way it goes, Danny has less free time all of a sudden, and things are just a little harder to get done with all the ‘excitement’ of working with 5-0.

Not telling Steve goes out the window during a case. Chasing a suspect through the jungle, dodging trees and bullets and trying not to lose their perp turns into a completely useless venture when, out of the blue, the guy is pelted with spear size needles and drops to the ground. “Jesus,” Steve skids to a stop just a few feet away from the newly dead body and Danny thumps into Steve’s back before wincing. They both have guns drawn, but Danny feels the dread pool in his stomach when he realises just what the hell is going on.

“This shit doesn’t happen in Jersey.” And he can tell that Steve is about to go off on him, because this warrants something breaking just a little, except there’s a loud rumble, a low droning noise and then a thump of footsteps. Steve brings his gun up and Danny briefly wonders how the hell to get Steve out of there when a giant scorpion tail lashes out from in the trees. Steve manages to duck; Danny’s not so lucky and ends up thumped back against a tree as the rest of the tail comes out from within the jungles growth.

Steve’s on his knees, just a few feet from Danny, staring with his jaw slack and really, Danny cannot blame him. It’s definitely something to stare at; a giant lion’s body with the hard, scorpion styled pincher tail and the face of a truly disgusting human, if a human had an unhinged jaw and three rows of razor sharp teeth and pointed ears. The scariest thing isn’t even the protruding spikes along the creatures back, or the blood red eyes that flit between Steve and Danny and the creature’s dead prey. No, it’s when the beast hunkers down, those spikes flaring up like it’s getting ready to fire again and Danny knows if it does they’re all dead.

It’s a split second action, part of his instinct, part of his near constant training from his childhood, but Danny’s clip is released and his spare ammo slotted in. He rarely needs to use it, but he’s got a clip set aside on the job loaded with silver tipped, holy water doused bullets for just this occasion. He’s never actually heard of anyone taking out a manticore, and really, he’d rather he didn’t have to wing it, but emptying five bullets into the things face seems like a good way to go. Later, if this takes it down, he can decapitate it, salt and burn it. But for now, bullets seem to work okay.

For a few seconds he even manages to forget that Steve is still there; he’d like it if Steve had actually run a mile, but the guy is just far too noble to leave Danny behind, even if it did save one of them. “What the fuck?” It should be comforting that Steve can’t brush this one off. “Danny, what the fuck was that?”

The manticore is just lying out, brush and trees heaving under the sheer mass of the beast as it lies, dead and bleeding on the jungle floor. “Help me up,” because Danny’s knee isn’t all that happy with the trek through the jungle and his back hates him for the brunt it took hitting the tree and he’s pretty sure his head cracked the bark. Steve manages to pull himself together enough to step over their dead suspect, still eyeing the body of the manticore warily, but moving to pull Danny to his feet, checking him over in what he probably thinks is a subtle manner but really isn’t.

Danny takes a few steps towards the manticore and Steve’s hand is there, on his shoulder, pulling him back. “Hey, what are you doing, stay back from it.”

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” because Danny has always been a thorough sort of guy, if it’s paper work or dishes or killing things, Danny makes sure he’s got all his bases covered. This time, it means plugging another two bullets into the manticore, going for the heart this time, or where he figures the heart would be, based on the lion’s body. With that done, and the beast hopefully well and truly dead, Danny turns back to a bewildered Steve. “You okay there?” Steve looks on the edge of a full blown break down, and really, Danny would rather avoid that.

“What. The. Hell.”

“Okay, okay, just breathe.” Holding his hands up, Danny hopes to stem off the rush of questions with pre-emptive answers. “It’s called a manticore, it’s really only supposed to be in India or Indonesia, but this is Hawaii and things just never seem to go by the rules here.” Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Since when has anything ever gone by what Danny was expecting? “It uh, it eats people. Whole. You know, bones and clothes and anything else. Sort of like a shark but a whole lot bigger and more deadly.” Really, he doesn’t know much more than the basics about things like manticores. He’s never had to know much more than ‘big, bad and deadly’ because they aren’t supposed to be anywhere near Hawaii.

“What? How does that even- why would you- how do you know this?” Danny feels his head start to pound and can hear his father’s voice echoing in his head, practically screaming out _‘you don’t get people wrapped up in this, you keep them out of it’_ , but Steve’s like a dog with a bone and Danny knows, he won’t let this go, he won’t let any of it go at all. It’s better for them if Danny just spills, before Steve delves into his own little investigation and gets himself killed.

“Because, due to the wonderful thing that is my heritage, I hunt and kill these things.”

“I thought you said they didn’t-”

“Not manticore’s in general, but things like that.” He really doesn’t want to give examples, because he is supposed to be the sane one in this partnership, and trying to convince Steve that in his spare time, which is lacking lately, that he hunts and kills things like banshee’s and vampires and werewolves and damp harpies, well, that’s not going to be fun.

“Danny,” there’s a warning in the tone, and Danny sees the start of aneurysm face, holding up his hands to stop it.

“No, okay, listen. This is serious shit. There are things that I do, that I have done for a long time, that are for the good of all mankind, and yeah, it’s a little insane and whatever, but this is what I do and if you want to dismiss it, that’s fine. But do not start poking in this, just leave it, Steve.” They already have to deal with their dead suspect and a potentially stalled case if this doesn’t go their way, not to mention the rather large carcase of the manticore. “I cannot have you poking around in something that will actually get you killed, stick to the normal, run of the mill whack jobs, okay. Just keep your mouth shut and roll with this, would you?”

Steve is still pretty shaken, just nodding slightly at Danny. It’s enough for right then, and Danny sighs slightly, staring at their perp.

“What the fuck are we meant to do with this?”

In the end, Danny just salts and burns both the bodies. Steve gives him the space after he asks for Steve’s pocket knife and goes to town cutting off the manticore’s head, which is fucking hard with just a fucking pocket knife, even if Steve’s idea of a pocket knife is a switch blade. By the time the bodies are ashes and Danny beats out the fire, its past night fall and Danny has to make the long trek back to the road and the car where Steve waits, on his own with a screaming pain in his knee, a stiff back and blood all over his hands. Steve calls in that they lost the suspect at the cliffs and tells the coast guard to search for the body. They figure they’ll wait four days before declaring it done and Danny is just a little glad that Steve can at least deal with that.

There’s nothing said on the drive to Danny’s place, although Steve is driving Danny’s car, the detective has nothing to say to fight the fact that Steve is just going to have to pick him up in the morning. If he even does. Danny might find himself fired in the morning and shipped into the nearest asylum because Steve’s sure one of them snapped.

Funny how things work out.

\--

 _Rule ≠2; Keep your shit together_

The art of his ‘calling’ is never really panicking. The fact that he didn’t completely freeze out and die when a fucking manticore came out of the jungle pretty much tells him he’s managing for the most part. Danny’s had one moment of losing his cool, he was twenty five, and frankly if anyone made any sort of issue out of it, Danny would force them to stare down a Behemoth without losing their shit. It’s not an easy thing to do; Danny has the scar on the top of his arm to prove it.

So his shit is well in order when it comes to ‘the job’, it’s just Steve that’s throwing all these worries around. Danny does not find himself fired, nor is he shipped off to an asylum or booted from the island or even questioned about the failure of capturing their runner. Instead, things are completely normal, save for Steve and his fucking quiet distance.

The day after the manticore thing, Steve picks Danny up as guaranteed, heads into the office and proceeds to complete his own paperwork, rather than fobbing it off on Chin and/or Danny to do because they were the ‘actual’ cops of the unit. Kono doesn’t seem to take offence to being the rookie when it comes to paperwork.

It was fine at first, Danny figured it would just take Steve a while to either get over it and ignore it, or break down and interrogate Danny over it. He was really hoping for the former, but his life was never that simple. But Steve likes to be a pain in the ass, it’s like a hobby or something, some trait that he was born with that just makes him an annoying piece of shit and Danny has to put up with him, because clearly he doesn’t have enough going on in this lifetime or the next.

Rather than do either of the things Danny expects from him, Steve just sort of clams up, stops talking to him and partners him with Chin to run down a few leads. It’s like dealing with Gracie’s hissy fits and Danny just rolls his eyes before leaving, expecting Chin to follow. The plus side is that he gets to drive his own car.

Working with Chin is just a little refreshing; Chin is professional, concise, controlled and calm. It’s a complete change of pace that throws Danny to begin with. He gets over it pretty quickly though.

“What’s going on with you and Steve?”

“It’s his time of the month.” And that’s as far as he needs to explain things to Chin, or at least it’s as far as Chin pushes. Danny appreciates that, Kono would not have given up until she was satisfied with the answer, and Danny highly doubts his was a satisfactory answer at all.

Steve, it seems, has discovered this while working with Kono, and the next time something comes up, things appear back to normal and Chin and Kono go out to do a little detecting while Danny and Steve land the stake-out routine. Everything is incredibly tense, without the usual snark, the arguing or give and take of their banter. Danny feels horribly off kilter from it and frankly, he’s not happy with it.

“How long is it going to take for you to get your panties out of a wad?” He knows he shouldn’t talk about it, that he should just let Steve sulk and get it out of his system and then they could all move on and deal with life.

“You never told me.” And Steve has his petulant face on.

“Well, of course I didn’t. How the hell do you work that into a conversation? Working on some case, figuring out leads and then what, ‘by the way, once we’re finished here I’m heading off to the cove to wrestle with a water dragon’? I really don’t think it would’ve gone too well Steven, even with your penchant for the insane.” Rachel is the only person that Danny had ever actually told and really needed to tell. Directly following an incident with a damned Wendigo that left his side torn to shreds, it wasn’t something he could explain to his wife without coming out of it worse for wear. The truth just seemed easier at the time.

“You could’ve tried.”

“Okay, do not turn this into a thing. Just don’t,” because really, Steve is acting like a child, “if I were to turn around and tell you I kill monsters part time, when I’m not working, are you really saying you’d buy that shit.”

“I’ve seen some stuff.”

“Some stuff? What does that even mean?”

“With the Navy, there was this one time when we came across this one thing that looked, maybe, like it could be a mermaid.” And it’s highly amusing that Steve is actually blushing right now. “I mean, none of us actually believed it, but yeah, it was like, there and now, I don’t know. It makes a little sense.”

“The politically correct term is mer-person.” And really, Danny’s just being awkward; because it’s startling just how fine he is with Steve knowing this aspect of his life.

“Have you, I mean; is this something you’ve always done?” Steve isn’t even bothering with the warehouse they’re supposed to be watching, and Danny can’t work up the energy to care, just shrugging mildly.

“Sort of. Oldest son, blood calling, all that stupid sort of stuff. Dad waited until I was fourteen to let me actually do anything.” Before that, it was just rules and training and learning how to do the things he’d one day be doing. It was a whole lot more important than school in his father’s eyes, not so much in his mother’s eyes, and since Danny had always been a crowd pleaser it meant working twice as hard on both and sacrificing a few hours sleep.

“Are you the only one?”

“No,” Danny has to snort, “you think if I was the only person doing this shit they’d let me have a life? Hell no. There’s some sort of blood line or whatever, spilt off and diluted or something along those lines, but its spread out is what I’m saying. There’s more than just a few of us.” And then there were the people who did it because they could, the ones that had vendettas or whatever, or the ones that just needed the rush of it. Not that Danny was telling Steve about that, just in case he got any ideas.

“So you’re good at it?”

“Haven’t died yet.” Which is good, in the long run, he’s made it to his mid-thirties, he’s doing well, he’s past the average. Maybe Hawaii will let him add a few more years to that. Steve, however, doesn’t seem impressed. “What?”

“You could’ve. That matador was huge, and-”

“Manticore.”

“What?”

“It was a manticore, not a matador. Very different things, babe.”

“Whatever, point is, that thing was huge. It could’ve killed you.” Coming from the man that rushes into meth labs and warehouses filled with armed assailants and shots first and shots later and usually gets shot at, well, Danny’s just a little perplexed.

“That’s the point, Steve. They’re dangerous and deadly and can kill people. The whole point is for someone else to kill them first.”

“Does it have to be you?”

“Blood says yes.” Things are quiet for a while, Danny watching the warehouse, Steve thinking loudly in the corner. It’s comforting, Steve’s worry, but at the same time, Danny has been doing this for the better part of twenty years and he’s managed just fine. Hawaii, it seems, isn’t as rife with this stuff as the mainland is, things in Hawaii are just slightly insane in the way that Danny’s dealing with manticores and water-dragons. But really, it could be worse.

\--

 _Rule ≠3; Keep your head in the game_

Admitting that having Steve know isn’t as hard as it should be. Least of all when he discovers that Hawaii just happens to house its very own tailypo, something that should not happen, but then there were manticores so really, a tailypo should not surprise him. Actually surviving any kind of confrontation with the small, vicious creature is a big bonus, and Danny is well aware that he’ll need to deal with it again once his ribs stop hurting and the bleeding stops, but until then, he’s just trying to stay conscious for a little while.

It’s just his luck that when he finally stumbles up to Steve’s door, it’s just gone four am and Steve has actually locked up for the night. Danny has to pull out his phone, dialling Steve’s number from memory because his screen has been cracked and mauled and knowing where the buttons should be is the only reason he manages to get the call through.

“’lo?”

“Hey, sorry to wake you, I have a bit of an emergency.”

“A case?”

“No, different kind of emergency. You have first aid supplies, right?” There’s rustling on Steve’s end, and Danny sees the glow from the upstairs light flicking on.

“Yeah, course.”

“Great, think you could come downstairs and use them?”

“What?”

“I’m bleeding on your doorstep, McGarrett; can you get with the program before I pass out?”

Danny is only mildly annoyed that Steve hangs up on him, Steve makes up for it by practically running down the stairs, knocking the alarm system off and yanking the door open in record time. Danny doesn’t get his sheepish ‘hi’ out before he’s pulled into the house and directed into the kitchen.

“What the hell happened?” Danny starts to explain, wincing at the ache in his side and the slashed wounds on his back, letting Steve peel his shirt off his blood soaked shoulders with little fuss and trying to explain what a tailypo is without too much movement. “These might need stitches.”

“So stitch them.” Danny’s head is resting on the table, exhaustion and blood loss and pain making him groggy and tired and fucking sore. He knows that the gouges in his back are pretty serious, but he’s never really liked having to deal with the questions when he actually has to take a trip the emergency room.

“Okay, fine, but no bitching.”

“Make me stop hurting, I’ll praise you.” And that’s how Danny ends up waking up in Steve’s bed, bandaged up and told to take that day off. He argued, but it was hardly worth the effort since he could hardly hold his head up. Stumbling to the bathroom, answering natures call before stumbling back to the bed, Danny just waves a hand in defeat and proceeds to sleep the day away.

Steve comes back just before seven and Danny’s sitting on the floor, wearing one of Steve’s shirts and his pants, cross legged on the floor of the living room. Steve gives him one look before leaving the room and then coming back with two beers.

“I can’t, I’m going out.”

“The hell you are.”

“Steve, don’t start.”

“No, okay. Your back is barely holding itself together right now,” and Danny knows Steve is being over dramatic. There are three deep wounds over his shoulder area, Danny knows because he checked to see how Steve did with the patch up, and he’ll admit it was a pretty good job. His ribs have stopped aching, so Danny figures maybe they’re just bruised, and so long as he doesn’t stress his left shoulder too much, he’ll be fine. “That thing, that tail-you-poe or whatever, mauled you. There’s no way you’re going out tonight.”

And this was exactly what Danny was trying to avoid, because yeah, someone worrying is a little comforting, someone knowing that one day Danny might not be around and it wouldn’t be a total mystery as to where he went or what happened, that wasn’t so bad. But this was what he didn’t need. Rachel had worried too much, it had put the wedge there and eventually led to be too much, and Danny really didn’t blame her for it, because he hadn’t told her from the beginning and maybe he should’ve.

“Steve,”

“No, okay, I saw the scars.” And Danny knows what ones Steve saw; the bite on his right shoulder that tore out muscle and scratched to the bone from the Behemoth, the thin, long, jagged scars from the shifter along the bottom of his back, probably the bites on his sides, twins on each side of his rib cage from the vampire couple when he was just a kid and still didn’t have his shit together. All Danny can do is sigh, because scars are only half of it. “You’re going to kill yourself; you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Hey, it balances it out. You nearly kill me at work, I nearly kill me off work.” And it’s probably not the best time for a joke, not by the seriousness of constipated face that Steve currently has.

“No, because I am there to watch your back. Out there,” and Steve gestures beyond the house with his head, sneering as if it insulted his mother, “you’ve got no back up, no help, no partner.” Really, Danny should’ve seen this coming, he really should’ve and hell if he knows why he didn’t. “So you are either taking me with you, or not going at all.”

And that is how Steve McGarrett becomes Danny Williams’ hunting partner.

\--

 _Rule ≠4; Know your shit_

Danny has always been an astute student. Describe a demon/monster/creature to him and he’ll probably be able to give you its name, origin, habits, weaknesses and strengths and then give the best way to kill it.

Steve, however, is not so great a student.

Danny ends up going for the tried and tested method. Giving Steve half of his silver bullet supply, three gallon bottles of holy water and strict orders to aim for the head, Danny figures they can wing it if it really comes to it.

\--

 _Rule ≠5; Do not fly by the seat of your pants –DO NOT_

Danny gave up trying to beat that into Steve’s head after the first three times they went out. Steve seems to handle improvisation well enough that Danny just needs to figure out Steve’s flow and style and watch his blind spots.

It’s remarkably easy.

\--

 _Rule ≠6; Don’t make it personal_

For Danny, it’s always just been a case of doing what he does. It’s never been a revenge job, he’s never held a grudge, he’s dealt with shit, moved on and not made mistakes. Five weeks into the expanded partnership and Danny discovers that Steve does not feel that way.

With 5-0, Danny can understand Steve being protective, he can understand Steve being territorial and obsessive and holding grudges. It gets them by, it keeps them sharp, it keeps the criminals off guard, it strikes the fear of God into them when Steve McGarrett is on a warpath. The man took on the Yakuza and came out on top. With this shit, with the stuff that Danny has, against his own judgement, pulled Steve into, it’s not such a great idea.

But Steve doesn’t seem to care.

Five weeks after Steve demands to become Danny’s partner, five weeks after Danny came out on the slightly raw end of the fight with a tailypo, they just happen across one, and Danny is fairly certain that it’s the same one, because they aren’t common little buggers, there’s about nine thousand of the little shits ever documented, and that is in the whole of time, since the documentation of the little bastards started.

Danny tries to explain that the little buggers are fast and smart and damn well dangerous, but Steve doesn’t listen or just doesn’t care and really, Danny should figure out by now that Steve really does think he’s Rambo or Superman or Batman or something.

Either way, Steve goes Navy SEAL on the little black bugger, leading the thing on a merry chase before crushing it under a few tonnes of tree and smirking gleefully as the corpse twitches and flutters under the weight.

“You really do need to think about professional help, babe.” Getting the tree of the body, salting and burning and ditching the cinders and cleaning up what they can, Steve actually drags Danny back to his house instead of splitting off like usual. Danny realises as he walks into Steve’s house, sprawling down on the sofa as Steve heads to the kitchen for beers, that his father would have his head if he knew he was taking someone out as back up. Someone with no experience, someone with no knowledge, with no honed skill.

But Steve appears beside him, silent despite the heavy boots on his feet and Danny can’t help but smirk and take the beer from his fingers. Maybe it is a really bad idea, because Steve gets fixated, he holds grudges and he goes for blood and it’s personal almost all the fucking time, but really, Steve’s the best damn partner Danny’s ever had on the force.

\--

 _Rule ≠7; Do Not Get Involved!_

There’s got to be a few exceptions, of course. Danny’s father made the exception for Rachel because it promised to result in a potential carry on of the heritage. He was just a little disappointed with Danny having a daughter, Danny’s mom quickly sorted that out and it explained why she was the exception for the rule as well.

Steve is an exception to every rule.

Steve gets to know because he worms in everywhere and just fits. Steve gets the details because he asks the questions, because he takes the time to delve deeper, because he’s just damn interested. Steve gets involved because he wouldn’t have it any other way, because he thinks that two heads are better than one, even when they are bitching and arguing most of the time. Steve doesn’t plan, doesn’t know, doesn’t learn shit. He just goes with what it feels like and prays to God he doesn’t get eaten.

Steve kisses like he’s got all the time in the world, Steve has focus and determination, even when it comes to kissing, possibly especially when it comes to kissing.

It goes against a big rule of Danny’s, but it has nothing to do with the hunting aspect of his life and everything to do with Steve technically being his boss and absolutely being his partner. You don’t shit where you eat, and Danny’s never been tempted to get involved with a co-worker before he was strong armed onto 5-0. But Steve is like this itch under his skin, like this constant burning and prickling and Danny really can’t avoid it any more.

Danny hisses at the teeth on his neck, arches into the mouth down his spine, shudders against the hands sliding over his skin. It’s something new, not feeling self conscious about the scars, not fending off awkward questions about how he got them or just why they look like animal attacks. Steve isn’t overly careful of them, fingers training over the scarred flesh and his mouth burning memories through Danny’s skin over the marks. Steve’s hands grip bruises into his hips, holding Danny steady as he presses into him, both echoing the other with low groans because it’s been leading to this since they drew guns on each other.

For a moment, they just stay as they are; kneeling on Steve’s bed, Steve pressed to Danny’s back; hands gripping Danny’s hip while Danny holds loosely to one of Steve’s wrists and braces himself against the headboard with the other hand. Steve’s nose presses to the base of Danny’s neck, pressing into the hairline while they hold themselves, catch their breath before Steve slowly draws out, smoothly pressing back in with a steady, slow pace that Danny knows will drive him crazy in just a matter of minutes.

That seems to be Steve’s intention, keeping his pace slow, the slide of their hips kept at a casual speed while the depth was just shy of too much and the determination behind each thrust was seared into Danny’s mind. “Fuck, Steve, c’mon.” Head dropping forward, Danny can’t do much more than lean forward, listening to the way Steve’s breath hitches and a hand leaves his hips to run up Danny’s spine, fingers catching on the trails of puckered, smooth, scarred skin. Danny would normally flinch away from it, but Steve’s touch isn’t something he has the willpower to avoid.

The shift causes a change, spurs Steve into a more rushed pace, each thrust and stroke pushing Danny close to the edge, Steve’s angled thrusts into him nudging at his prostate just so and causing sparks and tingles to run along Danny’s spine. One of Steve’s hands reaches around to grasp Danny’s cock, gripping in a sure grip and stroking in time with his thrusts, his other hand sliding up Danny’s chest to pull him upright and back against Steve’s chest, pressing Steve deeper into Danny while plastering them against one another. Steve noses against the curve of Danny’s throat before licking the slight sheen of sweat from Danny’s throat and then biting sharply.

Logically, Danny knows that the bite should not be all it takes to push him over the edge, but it is. The sting of Steve’s teeth against Danny’s throat sparks the onset of his orgasm, body clenching, blood soaring and his whole world shrinking to the pinprick moment right there. Steve follows him over after a few more jerky thrusts into Danny’s clenching body, gasping and moaning and whining as his orgasm is wrung from him and collapsing forward against Danny’s back, hand reaching out to hold himself up against the wall.

They should talk, logically, Danny knows they need to. They’re breaking all the rules, they’re throwing too much out the window and Danny has always followed _those_ rules. But something about Steve just shatters all the previously known concepts and Danny finds himself pulled down under the covers following a quick clean up.

In the morning, he decides, he can deal with Steve and the rules and the talking in the morning. But right then, Steve is just a warm and welcome weight against his back, and really, Danny figures he might be past due enjoying himself a little.


End file.
